


One Hand Behind Your Back

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [61]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Illness, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, kustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Playing stupid games, winning stupid prizes.





	One Hand Behind Your Back

* * *

Stretch didn’t have much in the way of an internal clock, but all it took was a quick glance at his phone confirm it was early enough that Edge probably hadn’t gone to work yet. 

He rolled over in the bed to debate internally about that, trying to decide if it was worth waiting to get up to play at avoidance, but it didn’t really matter, did it? Edge would come up to kiss him goodbye before he left and besides, the siren smell of fresh brewed coffee was wafting into their bedroom.

In the end, he got up and pulled on his robe. Whatever would be, would be, and at least he’d have caffeine.

As suspected, Edge was sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper spread out in front of him as he sipped what was probably the third cup into his second pot of coffee. Honestly, Stretch loved him a cuppa, too, but Edge’s magic should be flowing in a dark roast by now.

“What are you doing up?” Edge asked, looking up with a frown. His pen, which had been in the process of circling any information in the paper that was worth passing on, hesitated, the tip trailing against the newsprint.

“don’t sound so happy to see me,” Stretch yawned, making his way to the coffee pot. “people’ll think we’re in love.”

Edge rolled his eye lights and went back to the paper. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but seeing you this early throws me off.”

Stretch poured a healthy, or well, probably not healthy at all measure of sugar into his cup, topping it with cream and then taking a deep, contented drink of the muddy results. That finished the pot, but he flicked the burner off instead of making a fresh one. If Edge wanted to up his daily jitter ratio, he could make another.

He leaned against the counter, taking a moment to admire the view. Edge was in one of his ‘I mean business’ work suits and there was something about seeing him all classy, in a dark crimson shirt and a black tie that had some seizure-inducing swirly pattern on it. Except he had his sleeves rolled up, jacket tossed over the back of a chair and Stretch would bet his lesser-used femur that no one at the Embassy got to see him like that. Classy, yeah, but ever so slightly taken apart, almost an invitation to disassemble him a little more. 

It was like a sexy disguise, really, only much better than anything Batman had.

Any other day, Stretch would probably straddle Edge’s lap and make a good attempt at pushing his luck. Today he only wandered close enough to drape himself over the back of Edge’s chair. 

“sorry i wrecked your groove. hmmm, you ever notice you call me sweetheart when you’re being a dick?” He grinned to take the sting out of it, nuzzling a smacking, wet kiss against the top of Edge’s skull. 

Edge didn’t quite jerk away, but he did twitch and gave Stretch a look. 

Actually, it was more like a Look, but that was okay. Stretch only smiled sweetly and leaned down, giving him a real kiss because those tended to soothe all looks and Looks when it came to his honey. 

As per, Edge hummed appreciatively, kissing back for a long, toe-curling moment before pulling away and going back to his paper. “I’ll take your word on that, considering you’re the runner-up for the championship.”

“runner-up!”

Exchanging a Look for a smirk, oh, his baby was in fine form this morning. “Apologies, sweetheart, but my brother will always be better at being a dick than you.”

“eh, yeah, there’s an argument i can’t win.” But Stretch couldn’t help smiling because damn, he loved this asshole. He loved him so, so much…and he kinda needed him to leave. He plunked down into one of the chairs, picking at one of the half-eaten muffins Edge had on his plate. Long moments ticked by of Edge picking his dinosaur way through the paper, and yeah, he was going to have to move this along. 

Nonchalantly, Stretch pulled out his phone and made a show of absently scrolling through it. “ooh, babe, you’re gonna be late.”

It worked. Edge looked at his own phone and made a disgruntled sound, folding up the newspaper and tossing it into his briefcase. He was only halfway into his jacket when he leaned down to steal another kiss and Stretch sighed into it, wishing he could share his affections as easily as he could his mouth, wishing he could damn well beam his love into Edge like Star Trek, one of the good episodes.

Meh, it wasn’t like Edge didn’t know. He hoped.

He waited until the front door closed and he heard the car start, pulling out of the garage and then down the road. Then he dropped his head down to rest it on his folded arms, breathing in slowly, letting it out. 

Five minutes was all he allowed himself and then Stretch stood up. Time to get this over with.

Outside, there was a thin, fresh layer of snow on the ground, putting a lie to the idea that spring had sprung. It suited his mood and Stretch only zipped his jacket and burrowed deeper into his coat. It wasn’t like he was walking far anyway, not when a couple shortcuts would do.

* * *

All the windows were dark, and the glaring light on the front porch was less invitation than it was warning. Stretch ignored that, shortcutting up to the stairs.

Deliberately, he stepped on the pressure plate that he knew was concealed beneath the welcome mat. It set off a buzzer inside the house and he may as well annoy while he had the chance. 

The front door remained closed, which meant either no one was home or no one cared he was here, and Stretch had pretty good odds on the latter. He knocked firmly. And again. Again, finally pounding on the door.

It swung open mid-pound and Stretch nearly fell forward on top of Red. Probably good that he didn’t; from the glare Red was sending up at him, he probably would have gotten shivved before they hit the ground.

“stretch, this better be good,” he growled. One of his eye lights was flickering, on the verge of going out. 

Oooh, scary, especially with the way his shirt was on backwards.

“don’t even start with me, captain cockblock.” Stretch didn’t bother trying to shove Red aside to get in, sparing himself a possible stabbing by shortcutting into the front room. The strain of so many cuts in a brief time was starting to ache a little in his chest so he was either walking most of the way home or hanging out with the strangler here for a while. “i can’t even count how many times you’ve kept me from getting laid and i can recite pi for an hour. i need to talk to sans.”

From the shifty look Red was giving him, he was working up an excuse. Stretch deliberately toed at one of the shoes laying on its side on the mat, a shoe that decidedly did not belong to a Red and unless someone else in New New home was working lazyass chic, he knew who they belonged to. 

Fuck it, they all knew who those shoes belonged to; these two could be dicks about it all they wanted, but no one except them was that stupid. Even Papyrus had more or less started discreetly leaving the cushion on the sofa next to Sans empty on movie nights, on the strict, unspoken understanding that whenever Red bothered to show up, if he showed up, that was where his ass belonged.

“for fuck’s sake, he knows i’m here,” came floating down the stairs. Proof that Sans at least had his head on in the general direction of straight. He appeared with a pop of teleportation directly on the sofa, still pulling a shirt over his head. “i’m not crouching in the closet with my pants halfway up waiting for you to get rid of him. hey, stretch, what’s up?”

Red was sputtering next to him like a cat in a swimming pool, but Stretch couldn’t pay attention to that. Now that he was in front of Sans, fear was choking him again, rising up thick and tight, clenching his soul. “check me.”

Uncomfortable prickles skittering over his bones, too much for one check, but he didn’t bother glaring at Red. Wasn’t like he didn’t know, or he wouldn’t very quickly find out. From their expressions, they were discovering the same thing he had the night before when he'd absently checked himself before bed. 

Yeah, that had sucked a little. 

Standing there in the bathroom, his toothbrush still in hand and foam dripping from his mouth. He hadn’t even really thought much about it for couple days, until he’d Checked. Not a minute later Edge walked in to go through his nighttime routine and all he could do was rinse his mouth and go to bed. Laying there in the darkness in Edge’s arms, listening to his even breathing, and waiting until morning when he could come here. 

“the infusion didn’t work?” Sans said. His face reflected his dismay, and he was already on his feet, moving faster than most would give him credit for. “i thought-“

“no, it did work, it worked for most of the week.” Sans tugged demandingly on his sweatshirt and Stretch obediently crouched, shivering as another Check washed over him. “i noticed it dropped again last night.”

“is it still dropping?” Red asked sharply. Any irritation or sardonic humor vanished, he was all business in a blink, hovering back while Sans inspected him like a prospector in search of gold.

“don’t think so. it’s been holding steady all night. seems like my base hp just dropped to 4.”

“okay,” Red nodded slowly. He turned away and Stretch couldn’t see his face when he added, “you think if you use more of that infusion, it’ll help?”

“woah, wait a sec,” Sans straightened, letting go of Stretch’s sweatshirt so abruptly that he wobbled on his heels and fell back on his coccyx. “we’re scientists, and phd’s aside, we ain’t doctors. even if we were, we’re out of infused oil.”

“but you can make more, can’t you?” Not really a question. Red’s fingers tapped a rhythm against his femur, a thoughtful little tic.

Sans hesitated, then shook his head. “…yeah, we can, but. look, edge needs to know about this. i don’t play keep-away with this shit.”

“yeah?” Red turned back and favored them with a sharp-toothed smile. “and how’s he gonna react?”

Sans looked away. They both looked tired, Stretch realized, dark shadows under their sockets that didn’t look like they came from fun times. But Sans had very kindly invited him to stay out of it, so he wasn’t gonna ask. Not today, anyway.

Red only nodded as if Sans’s silence spoke a wiki's worth of confirmation. “fucking exactly. he’ll freak his shit and we just got him back on an even keel. fucked up shit at the embassy, fucked up shit with his…” Red bit off whatever he was going to say. “plus, we get the added bonus of paps and blue freaking their shit, and suddenly we got a shitshow on pay-per-view. is it really worth all that? say we tell him and it goes away in a week or two?”

“say we don’t tell him,” Sans countered, “and in a week or two his hp drops to three, only we didn’t tell him and he sees it on his own!”

Yeah, Stretch was about done watching these two arguing about his life. “i’ve had lower hp before, we all have. he could see it now, if he checked me. i’m not trying to hide it.”

“see?” Red wasn’t even bothering to hide his triumph. “not even a lie, only a little discreet ‘not sayin anything’.”

Years of dealing with his own crap had probably made Sans immune to anyone else’s. “yeah, it’s not me you’d have to convince of that, and you’ve got zero guesses on whether or not edge would buy stock in that line of bullshit.” 

Not that he was wrong, but still—

“sans. two weeks. please,” Stretch pleaded. “i’ll go to the therapist, i’ll even see alphys if you want but…please.”

That was a carrot on a stick, a pretty fucking tasty one, and he knew it. They all hated doctors, but Stretch was usually the worst about it. Sans was visibly wavering, looking from Red to Stretch. Then he sank back with a shrug, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“you’ll go see alphys?” Sans asked, low.

“i promise.” Stretch made an ‘x’ over his soul and for good measure, held out a pinkie.

Sans hooked it with his own and sighed loudly. “okay. _okay_. you two are fucking me over a barrel, here, you know that.”

“that’s a new one,” Red leered. “better mark it down on our list. your magic-sucking machine still in the lab?”

Just the mention of the lab made Stretch swallow hard and that was on top of the nausea that watching Red flirting induced, “yeah, but—“

Sans must’ve still been feeling a little kindly towards him, because he didn’t force Stretch to finish. “don’t even worry about that, kiddo, the jack-off here can babysit me.”

“nah, i don’t think so,” Red said, “not my style. you can take the magic from me. specially if you’re gonna jack me off.”

“great, so stretch can grease himself up with your juicy jizz?” Sans’s grin was less forced even as Stretch made a gagging sound.

Red gave them a broad wink. “why should you have all the fun?”

“dunno if the ‘coconut cabana’ scent is gonna be enough to cover that up,” Sans said thoughtfully. “might have to take it all the way up to ‘moonlight lovebeam’ or whatever it’s called.”

“enough, i’m begging you both, stop before i barf on everyone’s shoes.” Stretch covered his mouth with one hand and crossed his eye lights in puke-pantomime. ”can we go back to pretending that i don’t know you two are screwing? it was a simpler, happier time for me.”

“you came into my house.” Red grinned. “play stupid games, win fucked up prizes. welp, i could eat right about now, not anything either of you can cook, and since we’re trying to keep pretty boy here alive, we probably shouldn’t risk mine.”

“edge made a strawberry cheese danish last night.” The least Stretch could do was offer them food, especially since he hadn’t made it. 

“that’s what i like to hear!” Red slapped Stretch on the back as high as he could reach, which was still uncomfortably close to his tailbone. “let’s head back to your place, honey bun, and kill some of my bro's cooking, make some plans, yeah? get this done before himself gets home.”

“yeah, okay. can one of you…?” A faint sense of unreality washed over him, a push through the void that he never felt when he shortcutted himself. When it eased, they were standing in front of his house on the porch.”

“couldn’t put us in the living room?” Sans said disapprovingly. He grimaced as he trudged through the thin snow in his slippers. 

“trust me, my bro would notice if we leave a smudge on the carpet. kick your shoes off at the door, sansy-sweet, and let’s try to be discreet?”

“you sure you wanna start playing pet names with me?” Sans asked. His tone was lazy, his eye lights anything but, “‘cause between shakespeare and the urban dictionary, think i can play to win.”

“that a promise? inquiring minds wanna know.”

Stretch trailed behind them, ignoring their squabbling. The fear that was making a home in his soul was muted, eased, a little. Not gone, no, but there was a plan now, and that was more than he usually managed.

Besides, Red knew Edge better than anyone, even him. He knew exactly how his brother would react to all this. It had to be better to try and figure it out before worrying him, see if it was an easy problem to solve, and it wasn’t like it was only the three of them, he was going to see Alphys, too.

It was a work in progress, was all, and not worth worrying him yet. 

He couldn’t help playing with his wedding band while the three of them razed through the remains of the strawberry danish. The smooth metal was body-warm against his fingertips and the promises embedded into it were not ones he planned on breaking.

He’d talk to Edge if he had to, he would, tell him everything no matter how upset it would make him. 

Just not yet.

-finis-


End file.
